


You Will Dig Your Fingernails Into The Desk In Surprise When You See How Many Dicks Pacman Can Fit In His Mouth.

by Not_Evil_I_Just_Wanna_Fuck



Category: Pac-Man (Video Games), Super Mario & Related Fandoms
Genre: Comedy, F/F, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 10:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_Evil_I_Just_Wanna_Fuck/pseuds/Not_Evil_I_Just_Wanna_Fuck
Summary: Nobody ever expects the Pacman Porn. Nobody.





	You Will Dig Your Fingernails Into The Desk In Surprise When You See How Many Dicks Pacman Can Fit In His Mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine wanted Pacman porn and paid my 95p to write it, so here we are. A new AO3 account and a lot of laughter later.

If anybody were to ask Pacman about what he calls a ‘good time,’ they’d probably be expecting him to give an answer like hunting down all the Pac-Dots, eating fruit, or playing with Blinky, Pinky, Inky and Clyde. This might actually be why nobody ever asked Pacman this question which- well. He’s not complaining. The actual answer is a lot more nuanced and also a lot more awkward to drop into casual conversation, especially when people have this idea of you in their head as this simple little sunshine with eyes and a big mouth who is just as innocent as Peach or Daisy.

This is wrong on multiple levels, starting from the fact that Pacman has walked in on Princess Peach fucking the living daylights out of Rosalina with a strap on, whilst Rosalina was also blindfolded, tied up, and crying ‘I’m sorry, Mummy, I’ve been a bad girl!’ (which was, ironically enough, not the worst thing he’d seen them doing. He’ll never forget the incident with Mario’s hat), and ending with how Pacman would probably quite happily quit working in the game industry if it meant  he could spend the rest of his life doing the hibbety-dibbety. Yes, you heard that right- Pacman, that big yellow fuzz ball so widely adored, loves nothing more than a good ol’ bit of gland-to-gland combat.  Playing a game of Mr. Wobbly hides his helmet, as one might call it, or punchfucking the rosebud.

“I just really like humpy-squirty,” he said, quite casually, as if his dick wasn’t currently inside someone as he did the squat thrust in the cucumber patch. He was quite used to all this- a rip ‘n’ dip veteran so to speak- so he had mastered the art of multitasking during the act, able to remain so perfectly functional that if it wasn’t for the very obvious evidence that he was going heels-to-Jesus, you might walk past him and think he was just doing something perfectly casual with his time. It required a very skilled or determined partner (or partners) to be able to wreck him these days, otherwise he would just have to do so much clunge plunge that it would horrify even the most hardened nymphomaniac.

(Except, perhaps, for Princess Peach and Rosalina. Those two are the only ones who can really compete against him when it comes to their dedication to the carnal groan-moan-WHOA!)

Donkey Kong, the current victim of Pacman’s prowess, could only let a long, shuddering groan that sounded closer to the cry of a dying person than someone having the greatest dicking of their life time. He wasn’t even able to support his body at this point, just lying completely limp on the bed whilst Pacman ploughed him in a way that would put farmers to shame. Considering that Donkey Kong had already orgasmed four times at this point which- to him- was his limit, whilst Pacman had only done it twice and seemed to have another dozen left in him, the lack of enthusiasm was perfectly fair. Pacman was used to this kind of thing, and thus continued to talk as he did the bow-chick-a-wow-wow to Donkey Kong’s thoroughly creamed donut.

“In fact, I’d even go so far as to say that my purpose in life is to bring an al dente noodle to the spaghetti house.”

“Stooooooooooop,” groaned Donkey Kong, starting to feel like his asshole would literally burst into flames from how thoroughly phutzed it had been. Pacman obediently stopped, pulling out gently, and Donkey Kong slumped forward in complete defeat. Pacman patted him on the back in thanks and then jumped from the bed, wandering towards the door without caring for the fact that he was still hard.

“It was fun,” Pacman calls as he leaves, and Donkey Kong waits a moment until he can no longer hear the sound of whistling or footsteps before he groans once more, load and defeated.

“A monster,” is the word he utters. “A waka-waka monster.” And then, “Someone save us all.”

(Like most prayers, it is one that goes unanswered).

 

“How many dicks can you fit in your mouth?” Toad asks, in that sweet, utterly oblivious way of anyone who ever utters their famous last words. He had heard rumours of Pacman’s terrifying abilities but had never actually experienced them himself, since he was one of the few that Pacman was very careful to restrain himself with- it wouldn’t do to traumatize one of the younger, more impressionable members of their group. Of course, because of this, Toad now seemed to believe that every whisper someone who’d  suffered one of the extensive bruising of the beef curtains gave was crazy. And that disbelief led to him doing stupid shit like this.

Everyone else in the room freezes, staring with wide eyes at the big yellow alarm bell in the room, who simply smiled widely enough that it looked like face was really split in two. Which, in hindsight, is because it technically is, but being half-horny, half-afraid never does much for people’s cognitive ability. One or two of the more vicious people silently promise to beat the shroom out of Toad at the next opportunity, whilst one person (looking at you Mario) just comes in his pants without any further prompting.

“Why don’t we find out,” Pacman offers, only everyone in the room (except for Toad, who’s a fucking idiot) knows it’s less of an offer and more of an order; he’s got that look in his eyes, that one he always gets when he’s ready to do the bam-bam in the ham.  There’s a quiet whimper and Luigi has joined Mario in the ‘jizz in my pants’ club. Everyone obeys of course, because no-one is stupid enough to get in the way of Pacman and his weird obsession, so they all begin to slowly pile as many dicks into that stupidly big mouth.

It’s a little difficult to figure out the logistics of it, since it’s rather difficult to puzzle them all in tight enough together that they can actually shove said dicks into Pacman, but they manage it in the end- every single one of them fits their dick (or dicks, in the case of Bowser, who is actually three dicks in a trenchcoat- each of which are easily the biggest in the room. One is the size of Toad’s entire torso, which was greatly entertaining to see since Toad had to stand on top of it to be able to get his into Pacman’s mouth) and Pacman- whose mouth is more stuffed than the swear jar of a millennial who reads the news- looks like he is having the time of his life.

“17 dicks,” he says, quite proudly, once he has finished enthusiastically guzzling cum. And then, after a thoughtful pause, “Actually, maybe 16 and a quarter.”

Toad, whose dick was clearly the quarter, burst into tears. Most of the room are barely able to stand at this point, exhausted beyond measure, and Luigi has full on fell asleep, but Pacman merely smiles out at them.

“Whose first? I still have at least…” he pauses, clearly considering in his head even as he sizes all of them up like they are the Pac-Dots and he is going to consume them until there’s nothing left, “eleven rounds left in me. Probably more.”

The screams of terror could be heard throughout the whole building and Princess Peach stopped in the middle of her (very successful) efforts to bring a collared and chained Rosalina to orgasm through nothing but her feet. She smiled.

“Pacman?” Rosaline asked.

“Pacman,” Princess Peach agreed.

(“Fucking Pacman,” Donkey Kong wept, miserably, and it was a sentiment everyone dumb enough to consent to horizontal refreshment with him eachoed).


End file.
